A Way to Die
by shawshankUPL
Summary: Alright, so I've not written much fiction. Like at all. And this is my first fanfic ever. Told myself I wasn't going to write one, but hey, what good are convictions if you never betray them... Anyway, please leave criticisms or whatever. New to this.


**A Way to Die**

A door opened, and a woman stepped through the threshold. She drifted down the porch steps and across the lawn, while the sun smiled cheerfully down upon the town of Elmore. An aura of sadness pervaded her, the guise of contentedness betrayed by body language as she slumped into her car. She pulled the door shut, stabbed the keys into the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Before driving away, she glanced back at her home and smiled softly to herself, reminded of why she did what she did.

Nicole loved her family. She loved them more than anything. And she was willing to do anything for them. Richard, the love of her life and the man that adored her indiscriminately, unconditionally. Her boys, Gumball and Darwin, naive but innocent, carefree but pure of heart. And her daughter, Anais, the one Nicole felt the closest to, seeing a younger version of herself every day. The Wattersons were the reason to Nicole's rhythm. And yet, they were also the source of her greatest pain. Each day she lived with them, she lied to them. And the worst part, _it was too easy_. They believed her and everything she said. To them, there was no reason to question where she went every day. She worked at the rainbow factory.

_Of course, the rainbow factory. _Nicole scoffed to herself. _ Clearly an actual place of employment._ She was still flabbergasted that this lie worked at all, let alone the fact that it has worked for over eight years now. Richard never questioned their income, for as long as they had been married. He had never been the questioning type, as long as there was food in front and a roof above.

It wasn't until Gumball's fourth birthday when the subject finally came up. Nicole had caved in and gotten him a pet goldfish, as well as a lot of other things. Too many, it seemed, for he questioned where they all came from. Richard, crossing the mental finish line last as always, also inquired where exactly she worked, for the first time in their entire relationship. Surprised and cornered, she panicked, letting slip the first thing that came to mind.

_ "The... uh... the rainbow... factory?"_ She had grimaced and looked nervously between the two, eyes darting back and forth. Her son and husband stared at her for several seconds, before both shrugged and returned to opening Gumball's gifts. She decided to wear a rainbow badge, in the hopes that it might solidify her obviously fake story. Probably an unnecessary endeavor; she was never questioned about it again.

"I haven't been questioned _yet_," she had to remind herself. A woman in her position can't afford to become too careless, especially when already balanced precariously outside the law. The proverbial hole had been dug, the best she could do now was to avoid making it a grave.

As Nicole drove ever onward, her head began to clear. The dark fog was lifting as she grew closer to her destination. Although her personal life may be in dire straits, her professional life was as good as ever. Despite being quite older now than when she started, Nicole was still in top physical condition. Slender, flexible, fast, and skilled with her hands. In her line of work, being fit was important. But so was experience, and Nicole now possessed a great deal of that as well. Her clients also knew it, and the cash flow showed it.

Nicole neared Elmore city limits, drawing close to the large hotel, "The Chariot" on the outskirts of town. Having almost arrived at her destination, she pulled over to the side of the road. Her usual attire would not be fitting for the situation at hand.

As the female cat began to change into more appropriate clothing, Nicole was again reminded of her family, and a pang of guilt ran through her. She had a feeling, if Richard ever found out about her true profession, he wouldn't be too happy. Gumball and Darwin, they were too young and naive to understand what she had been doing. Anais, well, she would probably understand, but who knows what she would think about it? Perhaps she would think it's wrong, it's dirty and unclean. Nicole tried to put this out of her mind. _All these what if's, they don't matter right now. What matters is what is going to happen and what is guaranteed to come._

The blue cat stepped out of her car, several blocks away from the hotel. She was dressed in a small black dress, long black gloves and a large black hat with a veil, covering her eyes. The dress was tight enough to reveal the modest curves of her body, yet loose enough to still be comfortable. She decided on walking the last few blocks; after all, why go through all the trouble of trying to disguise one's self if someone would just as easily recognize your car? The last thing Nicole needed was to be seen giving one of her "visits". She grabbed her light briefcase, which contained a few tools of the trade. She quickly checked inside to make sure she had what she needed: specifically for this visit she had only a small rectangular box and a slender black sheath. Having confirmed this, she sauntered towards the hotel entrance.

Nicole walked past the doors and into the lobby of The Chariot. She had been inside before, quite a few times, and she always enjoyed the grandeur. Partly because of the sheer beauty of such expensive decor, but mainly because expensive hotels equal rich clients. Plus, there was a lot more fun to be had when the people she meets are well equipped.

The receptionist greeted Nicole as she strolled up to the front desk. He knew why she was here; the lady in black was not an uncommon guest, and she had connections with the management.

"Hello, Larry," she purred, masking her true voice. "I take it you have a room ready for me?"

"As a matter of fact miss, we do. Room 518 is waiting for you," the receptionist responded.

Nicole nodded her thanks as she proceeded to the elevator. She was really starting to enjoy herself. This was one of the best locations she has had the pleasure visiting. Nicole always looked forward to completing a job at The Chariot. There was a mutual understanding with the owner. A smile crept upon her face. She got all of the fun, with none of the clean-up. A quick entrance and an easy escape. Discretion was not overly important, as long as she didn't involve any other patrons.

Nicole was nearly skipping by the time she reached the elevators. She waited patiently for a lift to arrive, next to another person. A tall man, standing at least a foot above Nicole, with very broad shoulders. He was well dressed in a black suit and black shoes, with pitch black shades, and a small earphone on the left side of his head. Nicole's heart began to beat faster as the two waited silently next to each other. She could not watch the large man's eyes, but neither could he trace hers. When the elevator arrived, Nicole waited for the man to enter before closely following behind him. The large man pressed the button for the fifth floor. Nicole's suspicions were nearly confirmed. She began working out a plan, before she was startled by the man's voice.

"Which floor?" He asked, in a deep and demanding tone.

"Oh! Err, floor eleven," she lied. "Thank you." The suited man grunted in acknowledgement as he pressed the button.

_Dammit, getting careless! Well, I suppose it doesn't matter now. _

As soon as the elevator doors slid together, Nicole sensed the man tense up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach into his suit jacket. As he began to withdraw his hand, Nicole dropped her briefcase and spun around instantaneously, immobilizing the man's arm and locking it into place. In his hand was a silenced pistol, and it was now pointed straight up, beneath his chin. Nicole's finger was on the trigger.

*Ding*, second floor. Nicole stared into the man's eyes, a smirk on her lips. The man looked at her, pleadingly. He was entirely in her control.

*Ding*, third floor. She relaxed her hand on the gun slightly, no longer pointed straight up, but at a slight angle.

*Ding*, fourth floor. Nicole pulled the trigger, the soft sound of the shot masked by the ding of the elevator. The pistol fired point blank, the bullet tore through the man's head and exited through the back of his cranium, bringing with it a trail of blood, brain matter, and bits of skull, splattering the ceiling and back of the elevator. Nicole took a swift step backwards. As planned, she avoided the mess and remained clean. As the man fell forwards, she caught the back of his jacket to dampen the thud.

*Ding*, fifth floor. She crouched down and quickly opened her briefcase, retrieving the two items it contained. The first, a box of lockpicks, she tossed aside. Stealth had its time and place, but that time was not now. What she needed was the second item, the slender black sheath. She removed the sheath to reveal a thin, slightly transparent green blade - a glass dagger. As the elevator door opened, Nicole used the dead man's arm to block the censors, which would keep the lift on this floor. Despite the elevated situation at hand, she had an obligation to at least attempt to hide the bodies she left behind. That included not sending a corpse to the guests of floor eleven. Before standing back up, Nicole grabbed the silenced pistol from the ground, before the advancing pool of blood enveloped it.

With the dagger in her left hand and the gun in her right, she took a deep breath before walking out of the elevator and to the left. She walked at a steady pace, knowing exactly where to find her target. Before rounding the next corner, she tossed her black hat and veil behind her. She figured the gun and knife would be enough to give away her intentions; aim was more important than subtlety now. Besides, anyone that saw her face at this point would not leave the floor alive. Nicole stopped at the intersection and glanced quickly down the right side of the hall. What she saw was not unexpected; another black-suited man standing to the side of a door, towards the end of the hallway. Nicole checked the gun, her back to the wall. Two bullets left in the clip. She cursed under her breath, disgusted by the lack of professionalism from these thugs. Finding nothing else wrong, she spun around the corner and raised the pistol in one fluid motion.

The guard had only enough time to register a look of surprise before Nicole squeezed the trigger, the loud retort of the shot muffled by the silencer. The man's dark shades flew off, one lens destroyed completely as the bullet surged through his right eye. He was dead before his body hit the ground with a dull thud. Nicole had to be careful. However quiet the exchange had been, it was possible that her target was now aware. Not likely, but still a possibility.

Nicole continued onward, stepping over the lifeless corpse, until she reached the door that read "518". She knelt down and carefully placed her ear on the wooden door. A faint, rhythmic thud could be heard from inside, as well as the occasionally moan and squeak of a bed spring. Nicole breathed a soft sigh of relief. Her presence remained unknown to her target. He was obviously disposed in something more pleasant. Perfect. The stage was set for a very... theatrical approach.

The next action required a small bit of concentration. Kicking down a door made for a nice entrance, as well as an efficient one, but it was also _very_ difficult. Especially these large hotel doors. But Nicole Watterson was more than capable of the task. She took a step back and closed her eyes, counting to three in her head. On two, she stepped forward with her left leg, bringing up her right. On three, she kicked her right leg forward at full speed, her foot colliding hard onto the left side of the door as the lean muscle strained in Nicole's leg. The deadbolt broke through splintering wood, and the door flew open with incredible force, smashing into the wall.

With dagger and gun still in hand, Nicole strode into the room in a casual fashion. The room was sparsely furnished, as most hotel rooms are apt to be. In the middle of the room was a king size bed, and in the bed were two people; a plump, grey-blue colored old man in glasses on top, and a young cactus girl on the bottom, who must have been barely older than her son Gumball. Despite Nicole's grand entrance, the man remained unaware of her presence, obliviously humping away. The girl, however, turned her head and saw the blue cat stroll in and slowly raise a gun. Her tear-stained eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth to scream, yet no sound escaped. A bullet buried itself between her eyes; cactus juice sprayed out the back of her head, covering the headboard and wall. Only then did the old man stop his thrusting.

"Care to finish?" Nicole inquired. The man slowly turned his head to look at her. "I'm sure you'll be met with less resistance now." The color had drained from the man's complexion, his face locked into a mixed expression of shock, terror and panic. He mumbled something unintelligible. Nicole took a step towards the bed. "What's that you say, Mr. Robinson?"

"_Nicole! _What the hell are _you _doing here!" he finally managed to croak.

"Fulfilling a contract," she replied nonchalantly. "It seems sex trafficking is quite the lucrative business venture, isn't it?" She chuckled. "And the benefits, who knew? Ah, but I suppose you did. I guess when your wife despises you and everyone else finds you to be a disgusting self-centric megalomaniac, well, you can always resort to fucking twelve-year-olds."

Mr. Robinson attempted to reach across the bed to the nightstand. Nicole instantly leveled her gun at him. He froze.

"Tsk tsk, Mr. Robinson. Do you really think you are faster than me? Faster than a bullet?" Nicole was well aware that she had no ammunition left, but Mr. Robinson was not. "You see, I have a contract with the city. I go where they need me. They tell me where to find the trash, and I dispose of it."

"You bitch..." Anger began to glow on Mr. Robinson's face. "You dare call _me_ trash? Perhaps you should take a look at your own family. A worthless slob of a husband, an ostracized daughter who will grow up friendless and depressed. And your sons. One, a freak of nature. The other, a homo-sexual talentless retard!"

For just a moment, Nicole's aim wavered. Mr. Robinson acted in an instant, making for the nightstand again. He opened the drawer and wrapped his hand around a revolver. Nicole dashed forward, dropping the gun and dagger. She slammed the drawer shut with Mr. Robinson's hand still inside and locked his arm straight before bringing her palm full force onto his elbow. The was an audible pop as Mr. Robinson's arm bent inwards, snapping the joint. He bellowed in pain; Nicole took this opportunity to jam her first down his throat.

"Quite the tongue you have," Nicole whispered. "I think I should take care of that." She wrapped her hand around his tongue and pulled hard. With her other hand, she plucked her dagger from the floor and slowly sawed away at Mr. Robinson's extended palate. She took her time. Blood spilled profusely. And despite his best efforts, Mr. Robinson could barely make a sound, the pain was so excruciating. When Nicole finally sliced through the last bit of muscle, she jammed the severed appendage back into his mouth.

Nicole sighed. "I never planned for my visit to be such an extended one. Your death would have been semi-painless. Ah, but such is life. It's a shame, too. Gumball really did like you. He'll be sad, but I'll tell him you passed on peacefully, and not squirming in a pool of your own blood." With that, she drove her glass dagger into his throat, twisted it and snapped it off at the hilt. Blood dribbled slowly out, some it from the newly opened wound, but mostly from the blood he had been swallowing.

Nicole let him fall to the ground, her work done. His vocal chords had been severed; all he could do was wheeze and twitch, death's embrace slowly but surely approaching. She quickly grabbed the phone still on the nightstand, dialed the front desk and placed it back on the nightstand. It rang as she took one last look at the dying man at her feet, arms flailing weakly, trying to grasp at her foot.

"Here's to you, Mr. Robinson."

She kicked his hand away contemptuously before bring her foot down hard onto his neck, where the blade of her dagger still remained. There was a sickly crunch, and the twitching stopped. Mr. Robinson's lifeless eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. She tossed the dagger hilt at the feet of the deceased cactus girl. Nicole brought her hand over her face, closing her unseeing eyes. There was regret to be felt when those who are undeserving die. Unavoidable, but still regrettable.

_Now is not the time for reflection, _Nicole had to remind herself. She walked out of the room, nearly tripping on the corpse left outside. She smiled. Busy days were the most satisfying. As she walked, Nicole smoothed out her dress and re-adjusted her gloves. The blood on her clothes did not show; this was the very reason she chose black. Continuing down the hall, she snatched her discarded hat from the floor. Stealth was still important. The hotel would take care of the bodies, the police would craft a cover story, but being spotted at the upscale hotel in a seductive dress would lead to uncomfortable and unnecessary questions. Best to remain incognito, as the lady in black.

Nicole pondered on this subject as she reached the staircase and made her descent. How useful are disguises that gain their own reputation? There is some value in remaining masked, but now the mask was an entity of its own, at least in the eyes of others. The disguise is rather self-defeating if everyone recognizes it as "the assassin you should kill on sight". When a persona reaches that point, perhaps it is time to retire the disguise.

Nicole reached the ground floor and strode nonchalantly through the lobby.

"Sorry about the mess, Larry. Didn't expect company," she said as she walked by. The receptionist sighed before grabbing his mop and rolling it towards the second, still-working elevator lift. Nicole laughed.

The automatic door slid open and Nicole sauntered out. She was met by a smiling sun and a blast of fresh air. She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. As much as she enjoyed her job, the iron smell of blood and the septic smell of death were not pleasant. Relaxed and refreshed, Nicole traveled the short distance back to her car. Before driving away, she changed back into her usual attire and tossed the bloody dress in her trunk. The day was young, and she looked forward to the remainder. There was a loving family awaiting her return.

**END**


End file.
